


They're Us

by lets_talk_appella



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Clones, F/F, Horror, Horror Week, Mild Gore, Nothing too extreme but still a little blood and gore, Psychological Horror, of the evil variety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-22 12:14:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20874044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lets_talk_appella/pseuds/lets_talk_appella
Summary: When the enemy looks like your friends, how do you know who to trust? For PP Horror Week 2019 - Doppelgangers. Rated M for horror themes, not for smut.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I won't go too into description with gore, but there will be some.

_They moved in at night._

_No one noticed, no one heard. It was ideal for them. _

_Their eyes, amber in the moonlight, found the house, taking in its darkened windows and quiet demeanor. They thought of its occupants, sleeping right now, completely oblivious to the outside world. _

_They grinned at one another, exchanging anticipatory looks. This was going to be fun._

* * *

It starts small.

Chloe’s felt it for a few days. She’s felt it on her walk to and from campus, while on campus between classes, and even at the grocery store. She’s sure it’s all stress—it _has _to be—what with midterms coming up and preparation for Worlds in the spring. It’s stress, and stress alone. It’s gotta be.

It’s not like anyone is really watching her. That’d be insane. No one would have any reason to just… follow her all day.

She’s imagining things. She’s sure of it.

Still, she doesn’t particularly enjoy the (totally imagined) feeling that someone, once again, is watching her as she walks across the campus quad. She should be able to blame the chill running down her spine on the cool fall air. She should be able to blame the prickling of the back of her neck on the cold dampness of the rain/fog mist combination enveloping campus. She should be able to blame her unexplained skittishness on some assignment she’d forgotten to turn in.

She tells herself these things as she walks, tries to force her heart rate into a slower, steadier pattern than its current rapid flutter.

It doesn’t work.

Unease rises in her chest as she once again feels the weight of eyes trained on her. She glances over her shoulder, only seeing other bedraggled-looking students following her, headed to their own classes. Most of their eyes are trained on the ground, or at nothing in particular ahead of them. No one is following her too closely, no one stands out from the crowd, and no one is watching her. She looks ahead again, scanning her surroundings and seeing nothing—not one thing—that should be making her this anxious.

She walks faster.

Her skin crawls at being out in the open in the quad. Her last class of the day isn’t far away, but the idea of being so _visible _for any further length of time is unbearable.

She veers left sharply without warning, cutting off several people on the sidewalk who bristle immediately and glare at her, but she pays them no mind. She speed-walks off the quad, taking a path that deposits her between two tall brick buildings that act as security blankets, enclosing her with a relative feeling of solitude that the wide-open quad could not provide. However, it doesn’t make her feel any better, and she walks faster, breath starting to come in short bursts. If anything, the feeling of being watched, scrutinized, _examined _only intensifies, growing and developing until it starts to weigh on her lungs, crushing the air from them until she’s walking so quickly she’s nearly running, and she doesn’t care that people are looking at her now, because they’re not the ones she’s afraid of—who is she even afraid of?—and her heart is pounding so violently that she can feel it trying to escape from the confines of her ribs and can hear its every pump in her ears. Her head swivels, eyes scanning, always scanning for anything, any sign of real danger that could make her feel this panicked but finding nothing. She rounds the corner of a building at top speed—and stops dead.

She registers bright blue eyes trained on her own and red hair, but her brain can’t comprehend what she’s seeing. Who she’s seeing, standing only twenty feet away, watching her. Her stomach jolts, flips, tries to throw itself from her mouth and she doesn’t know what to do.

A huge group of people walk in front of her, disrupting her line of vision, cutting between her and the person who’d been staring at her, and Chloe knows she should run or turn away or something, but she’s rooted to the ground. The mob passes and Chloe braces herself but—the stranger is gone.

“No, no, no, no, where…” Chloe mumbles to herself, looking around wildly, searching for the bright eyes, unable to find them. She stares uncomprehendingly at the spot the stranger had occupied. Gone. She spins on the spot, getting even more weird looks from the students walking around her, but she doesn’t find who she’s looking for. The agitation in her chest is fading, though, draining away, and she _knows _that whoever she’d seen is gone.

With one more pivot on the spot, she catches a glimpse of Cynthia Rose walking past, headed in the opposite direction.

Relief floods Chloe’s veins, rolling through her and leaving her weak at the knees. She’s stressed and imagining things and Cynthia Rose will make everything better.

“Cee!” she shouts, voice cracking. “Cynthia Rose! Hey, Cynthia Rose!” Chloe calls, moving towards her, but Cynthia Rose doesn’t look up. She walks quickly and must have her earbuds in or something because she gives no indication of having heard Chloe’s shouts.

With an exasperated huff, Chloe starts to follow, intending to tell her all about her hallucination—it was most definitely a hallucination—but then Chloe’s phone vibrates in her pocket.

Distracted, she pulls the phone out and glances at the screen: call from Aubrey.

She looks up—Cynthia Rose has already been swallowed by the crowd—and answers the phone.

“Aubrey?”

“Hey! This is super last minute, but are you doing anything in, like, half an hour?”

“I—uh, what?” Chloe asks, still searching half-heartedly for Cynthia Rose but unable to spot her.

“I… asked if you were free soon?” Aubrey repeats, her voice turning uncertain.

“Oh, sorry, I was just… um…”

Chloe can hear Aubrey’s intake of breath, can sense her concern through the phone. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yes,” she answers more fully, forcing herself to focus on Aubrey and Aubrey alone. “Sorry. Um, weird day. So, uh, yeah, I’m free!” There’s no way she’s going to her last class of the day if she’s hallucinating. “Why, did you want to talk about anything?”

“Actually, I’m in Barden!” Aubrey says, sounding happy and excited and so _normal _that it sets Chloe at ease instantly. “Had to run kind of a last-minute errand with the lodge, so I’m here and wondered if you had a sec to meet up for coffee or something.”

“Oh… oh, wow, sure!” Chloe exclaims happily. It’s unusual for Aubrey to stop in randomly, but she’d done it before, and Chloe can definitely use the company. “Where were you thinking?”

“Um, how about the Smiling Goat?” Aubrey suggests, and Chloe grins; they went there often before Aubrey had graduated, and she’s missed the friend-dates.

“Awes! I guess I’ll see you there in…”

“Twenty?”

“Great. I’m just on campus, so see you soon!” Chloe says before hanging up. The sound of Aubrey’s voice had completely calmed her down. With one last look around, she starts making her way toward the cafe on the edge of campus, only walking a little more quickly than she usually might.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, she’s seated across the table from one of her favorite people in the entire world. Aubrey sips at her usual hazelnut latte while Chloe admires the heart the barista had created on the surface of her caramel one. The warm drink in her hands grounds her just as much as Aubrey does, and Chloe feels more relaxed than she has in days.

“I’m really happy you were free this afternoon,” Aubrey says. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” Chloe says, meaning every word. “And, yeah, I’m glad it worked out.”

Something in her tone must give her away; Aubrey narrows her eyes suspiciously. “You _were _free, right? No classes or meetings or anything?”

Chloe shifts somewhat guiltily.

“Chloe!” Aubrey gasps, scandalized. “Are you skipping class right now?”

“Just Russian Lit!” Chloe exclaims defensively. “I’ve taken it a ton of times already, so it’s fine!”

Aubrey shakes her head reprovingly, but she’s smiling. “Are you actually going to graduate this time? Since a certain _someone _is graduating?”

“For your information,” Chloe says flatly, “that _someone _has nothing to do with my graduation.”

“Uh huh. She’s single now, right?”

Chloe hesitates. “Yes, but—”

“But still an oblivious little hobbit?”

“Aubrey,” Chloe chides gently.

“What? It suits her,” Aubrey huffs.

Chloe hums. “For the record, I stayed because the Bellas—”

“Would have been fine if you’d graduated with me,” Aubrey says gently, reaching out to rest her hand on Chloe’s. “But I know you wouldn’t have it any other way. You know,” she adds, leaning across the table. “Sometimes, I wish I’d had the idea to stay, too. Or the guts,” she says, shifting back into her chair and taking another sip of her drink.

“I wish you’d stayed, too,” Chloe sighs wistfully. “We could have had so much fun.”

“I have the lodge,” Aubrey shrugs, rubbing at the corner of one eye. “Maybe the Bellas need some bonding time before Worlds?”

Chloe ponders that for a moment. “You know, that’s a good idea,” she says. “I’ll probably take you up on that sooner or later.”

“Definitely,” Aubrey nods. “Just let me know.”

It’s easy to talk to Aubrey like this, to fall into rhythm as if it’d only been hours since they’d seen each other instead of weeks. They’ve always been able to do that, and Chloe knows it’s a testament to the strength of their friendship. They talk about each of the Bellas some more—with Aubrey displaying far too much interest in Beca’s newly single status and what Chloe might do in response (“_Nothing_, Aubrey,” she insists)—and also about the Worlds competition in less than six months. Aubrey talks about work, Chloe talks about classes, and when Chloe’s phone chimes and she automatically reaches for it, they see that nearly two hours have passed.

“Oh, wow,” Aubrey sighs, “I should probably go soon before it starts getting dark.”

“Already?” Chloe asks, hearing the whine in her own voice but not caring. She feels safe with Aubrey there, and had temporarily forgotten all about the stress and worry of the last few days.

Aubrey hesitates, apparently sensing that something is wrong. “You okay?” she asks, her eyes flicking between both of Chloe’s. “You seem… I don’t know. But earlier on the phone things were kinda—”

“Just stress,” Chloe sighs. “I think my mind has been playing tricks on me lately. Maybe I just need some sleep.”

“What kind of tricks?” Aubrey asks, absently rubbing at her eyes again. Chloe wonders if fall allergies are bothering her.

“Um, nothing major,” Chloe says, shifting in her chair. She doesn’t want Aubrey to worry about her. “Just, like, seeing things every now and then. Probably just need sleep,” she says again in response to Aubrey’s raised eyebrows.

“Okay, if you’re sure…” Aubrey trails off. “But call or text me if you need anything, okay? I mean it,” she says seriously.

“I will,” Chloe promises. “Thanks.”

Aubrey studies her for another long moment before again checking the time. She glances out the window as if checking the rapidly darkening sky. “I really should go,” she says. “I don’t like driving through the woods after dark. It gets creepy.”

“Okay, well,” Chloe says, standing as Aubrey rises from her chair. “In that case, drive safe! I’m really glad we could meet up.”

“Me too!” Aubrey says, pulling Chloe into a warm and solid hug. “This was so nice.”

“Yeah,” Chloe breathes, squeezing Aubrey more tightly for just a moment. “I’ve missed you.”

When the hug ends, Aubrey picks up her purse—it looks new, Chloe notices—and says her goodbyes. Chloe hangs back, intending to use the cafe’s Wi-Fi to email her professor and make up some excuse for missing class. Aubrey waves at her just before passing through the door, and then she’s gone.

It takes Chloe maybe five minutes to type up what she deems an acceptable email; she hopes her professor won’t ask too many questions about a sudden bout of food poisoning. As soon as the email sends, Chloe slips on her jacket, grabs her bag, and heads out the door with a friendly wave at the barista.

She doesn’t get more than ten steps from the cafe before she again feels eyes on her back.

Steeling herself with a deep breath, she looks over her shoulder, but doesn’t see anyone.

She pulls her jacket more tightly around herself and keeps walking, flipping up the hood of her jacket. She almost immediately lowers it again; the hood restricts her peripheral vision, and she wants to be able to see everything. Just in case.

It starts to rain lightly, and she wishes she’d brought an umbrella. The chilly drizzle seeps into her supposedly rain-proof jacket, making both it and her jeans cling to her as she walks. The noise of the raindrops hitting the pavement around her sounds like footsteps to her paranoid ears, which strain for anything unusual.

Chloe picks up her pace, jumping when a gush of rain from a nearby gutter startles her. She can’t wait to get home.

“Hey, wait!”

A hand lands on her shoulder, scaring Chloe so badly that she makes some strangled scream, twisting around to face her attacker.

The barista from the cafe, already drenched from rain, recoils in surprise.

“Sorry!” Chloe gasps, knowing she must seem hysterical. “I—you scared me.”

“I didn’t mean to!” the barista rushes out. “Just—your friend left her umbrella at your table,” she says, holding up Aubrey’s purple umbrella, all wrapped up. “I saw it when I was cleaning. Though... it looks like you could use it,” she adds, eyes flicking down Chloe’s sopping outfit.

“Oh,” Chloe breathes, taking Aubrey’s umbrella from her. “I’m glad you spotted it. Thanks for bringing it to me.”

“No problem.”

“And, uh, sorry for… yeah, that,” Chloe says, waving her hand in the air in reference to screaming at the barista.

The barista shrugs. “No problem,” she repeats. “Have a good day.”

“You too,” Chloe says as the barista turns and jogs back to the cafe to escape the rain and return to her job.

Without thinking about it, Chloe unfurls and opens the umbrella, holding it up to counter the downpour. She’s still soaked through, but at least she’ll keep the cold rain off her. She pulls out her phone as she walks back toward the Bella house, hoping she can get to Aubrey before she drives too far out of town. Maybe Aubrey will even take pity on her and give her a ride home in the rain.

The phone rings three times and Chloe almost ends the call, not wanting to bother Aubrey while she’s driving, but then Aubrey picks up.

“Chloe? What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing, you just left your umbrella,” Chloe answers.

“What?”

“Your umbrella?” Chloe says, raising her voice to be heard over the rain. “You left it at the cafe just now.”

There’s a pause, and Chloe wonders if Aubrey still hadn’t heard her properly. “You left your—”

“Chloe, what are you talking about?” Aubrey asks, sounding concerned. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Chloe blinks, confused. “Aubrey, just now, when we met for coffee. You left your umbrella.”

“My… are you sure?” Aubrey definitely sounds lost now.

“Of course I’m sure!” Chloe says, that sense of disquiet returning, threatening to cut off her voice. “We—I was with you!”

Another pause, this one longer.

Chloe’s heart is once again beating uncomfortably hard. “You’re kidding around, right? Aubrey, that’s not—”

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m still close to the cafe, just walking home. You could meet me—”

“No, no, I mean—” Aubrey cuts herself off sharply.

Pause.

Chloe walks faster.

“Aubrey?” Chloe asks. Her voice seems very, very small to her own ears. “You were just here. Just now.”

“I… you said we met for coffee?” Aubrey sounds as scared as Chloe feels.

“Yeah! I—I just saw you. Aubrey, I _just _saw you.” Chloe’s pleading with her.

Aubrey takes a deep breath, one that makes the phone crackle in Chloe’s ear. When she speaks again, Chloe can tell she’s fighting to control her voice.

“Uh… Chloe, I’m—I’m at the lodge right now. At work. I haven’t been to Barden in… _weeks_.”


	2. Jesse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - brief violence.

Spending time with Jesse post-break up is much more enjoyable than it had been pre-breakup.

Which maybe would have been nice to know earlier.

As soon as it starts raining during her last class of the day, Beca reaches for her phone. She has some vague hope that either Jesse or Stacie or someone can be persuaded to drive to campus and pick her up so she doesn’t have to walk home in the rain. Because _of course_ she doesn’t have an umbrella.

When Beca pulls out her phone, however, she sees a notification from Jesse already waiting for her.

Jesse: _U need a ride Becaw?_

She twists her mouth, biting at the inside of her left cheek. His timing really is something.

_Duh._

After another ten minutes wasted listening to her professor drone on, she’s free, class having ended, and she makes her way out of the building. Outside, she scans for Jesse’s car in the parking lot across the street, staying close to her building to remain relatively sheltered from the rain. After a moment, flashing headlights catch her attention. She crosses the street carefully and half-jogs to get to his car, the rain only becoming more intense by the second.

“Hey nerd,” she greets, swinging herself into the passenger seat and shoving her bag between her feet on the floor. As soon as she closes the car door behind her, the skies open and it starts raining even harder. The sound of the drops splattering against the roof of his car is almost deafening.

Jesse gasps in mock offense, putting a hand to his chest. “Is that any way to talk to your super cool ex-boyfriend who picked you up in the rain?”

She fixes him with the most deadpan expression she can muster.

He stares back, eyes wide and hand still on his chest.

She counts to ten, but neither of them blink.

“Is this gonna be a thing?” she asks blandly.

“Yep. Not gonna stop staring.”

“That’ll make driving pretty hard.”

“Probably.”

She transitions her deadpan expression into her most withering glare.

Jesse still hasn’t blinked or moved as far as she can see. Even she has to admit that’s pretty impressive.

Finally, she sighs and turns away, blinking against the sting of her dry eyes. “Oh my god, you’re so annoying,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Whatever, thanks for the ride. Let’s just go!”

“Sore loser,” Jesse grins boyishly, his pose breaking as he starts the car with one hand, rubbing at his own eyes with the other. He pulls the car out of its spot and Beca buckles her seatbelt.

“How was your day? Good?” Jesse prods, glancing over.

“The usual,” she shrugs. “Arrogant professor, annoying amounts of reading that I’m not gonna do. Oh, some girl asked a really stupid question about—”

“So, uh, do you have to be home super soon?”

Beca frowns at the interruption. “Not really…” she answers slowly. “Why?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe we could grab Chinese or something,” Jesse suggests, momentarily taking his eyes off the road to glance over at her.

Just then, Beca notices that the music is off, which is unusual. Maybe the storm messed with the radio signal or something.

“Oh.” Beca shifts in her seat a little uncomfortably. “I mean, sure, but... like, we haven’t really been doing things like—”

“Not as a date,” Jesse says hurriedly, raising a hand to rub at his eyes again. “I just thought, you know, we’ve hung out since we broke up, but we haven’t really talked about, um, everything, and maybe we—”

“Dude, what’s up with your eyes?”

“Huh?” he looks over at her again, brow furrowed.

“Your eyes. You keep rubbing them,” Beca points out. “Did all that staring dry them out?”

“Oh.” Jesse blinks rapidly and returns his hand to the wheel and his eyes to the road. “No, just, um, some grit or whatever.”

“Oookay,” Beca says slowly, drawing out the vowel. “Can you see to drive? Like, with the rain?”

“Yes, Beca, it’s fine,” Jesse dismisses, voice turning impatient. “It’s supposed to stop soon anyway. Yeah, so, back to earlier, I was thinking we should go get dinner. And maybe talk.”

Beca hesitates. “I… what do you want to talk about? Just... stuff? Anything?”

“No, more like… about us. Don’t you think?” Jesse’s voice is light, but Beca gets the feeling he isn’t really asking. It’s not a feeling she particularly likes.

“Um, there isn’t really an ‘us’ anymore,” she reminds him, watching the side of his face carefully. “And I kinda thought we’d… talked… enough.”

“I mean, it’s kind of a big deal. It changes a lot.”

Beca’s voice lodges in her throat; when they’d broken up two weeks ago, Jesse had seemed to understand. It had been amicable. At least, as amicable as a breakup can be.

Jesse huffs what could be a little laugh. “Come on Beca, you can’t just tell me you’ve figured out you’re gay and then just not talk about it.”

“You said it was fine,” she replies stiffly, glaring out the window without really registering where he’s driving them to.

“Yeah, well, now I think we need to talk about it.”

A hard knot of anger forms deep in Beca’s stomach. “Jesse, I’m gay and I don’t _like _like you anymore. Done,” she spits defensively, using the most sarcastic tone she can manage.

Jesse rolls his eyes in annoyance.

Beca stares in disbelief. “What else is—so start talking then,” she says, stung.

“No, I mean over dinner,” Jesse insists again.

“Why can’t we just talk now? You’re making this a big deal.”

“Because we should talk over dinner.”

Beca stares out the window, noticing for the first time that he very distinctly did not drive the route that would take her back to the Bella house. “What’re you… Jesse, if this is some weird—what the hell, dude, why are you being so weird about this now?” she asks loudly, becoming more annoyed by the second.

“I’m not being weird, I’m being—”

“Ridiculous?”

“Seriously, Beca?” Jesse explodes, startling her into silence. “You’re gonna turn this on me? That’s typical, you know that? I’m taking you to dinner, and we are going to talk. That’s it.”

Beca swallows. In a much smaller voice than she’d have liked, she manages, “I don’t want to go with you.”

He ignores her completely.

“I mean it Jesse,” she says more loudly. “You’re acting really shitty right now. I thought we were fine. You said we were fine and it’s been working, and now—you can’t just—you know what?” she asks, the volume of her voice rising with every word. “Just take me home. I don’t want—”

“Shut up, Beca,” Jesse cuts her off with a snort of disgust. “You talk too much.”

Beca flinches. He’s never told her to shut up before.

“I… Stop the car,” she says, hating how much her voice quivers.

“No.”

Her eyes flick to the door locks, calculating whether Jesse’s driving too quickly for her to throw herself from the car and into some sort of tuck-and-roll.

“Stop the car,” she repeats.

He doesn’t answer.

Maybe for the first time ever, she notices how much bigger than her he is. How much stronger.

She’s never been scared of Jesse before.

She doesn’t like how it feels.

“Actually,” she tries, “I just remembered I said I’d help Chloe with—”

“You’re lying.” His voice is cold and certain.

“And you’re being a psycho!” The words burst out before she can stop them, and she immediately regrets it.

His expression darkens in a way she’s never seen, his face twisting and turning ugly. His knuckles whiten on the wheel. “Beca—”

“We’re at the restaurant,” she says suddenly, desperately, eyes catching sight of their favorite Chinese place rapidly approaching through the window.

For an instant, she isn’t sure Jesse is actually going to stop; when he does, he slams on the brakes, jerking Beca against her seatbelt and making the car behind them honk and swerve to avoid them. Muttering darkly, Jesse quickly maneuvers the car into a spot, parallel parking more perfectly than Beca has ever seen him do it.

“Get out,” he says, turning the car off.

Beca hesitates, but then realizes that being outside right now might be better than being in a confined space next to him. She unbuckles her seatbelt and fumbles for the door handle, finally pushing the door open and allowing a rush of the cooler air into the suddenly stifling car. The rain has slowed to a gentle shower, just like Jesse said it would.

He’s beside her in a flash—so suddenly that it startles her, because she hadn’t heard him get out of the driver’s side—and holding an umbrella above them both, sheltering them from the drizzle.

Standing on the sidewalk, she debates making a run for it. Even though he’s bigger and taller and therefore probably faster, she’d have surprise and more than three years’ worth of Bella cardio on her side—but then Jesse’s hand secures over her upper arm, gripping just a little too tightly.

He doesn’t say anything, but the message is clear.

Pure fear coils in Beca’s stomach, rolling and frothing until she thinks she’s about to be sick. Her throat closes and her mouth goes dry; she doesn’t even think she could muster a proper scream if she needed to.

Jesse takes a step toward the Chinese restaurant, steering her with ease, forcing her with him. She knows things will only get worse once they’re inside, unless she can slip away to the bathroom and make it out a window or something, but he’d see that coming.

“Jesse, I don’t want—”

“Beca? Jesse?” a familiar voice calls out over the rain.

Relief washes over Beca instantly; Jesse stops and they both look over to see Cynthia Rose and Stacie leaving the nail salon a few store fronts away, taking shelter under Cynthia Rose’s umbrella.

Beca barely takes a moment to wonder at the lucky timing. She’s too busy trying to convey to Stacie and Cynthia Rose that something is wrong.

“He—”

“Hey, you guys,” Jesse speaks over her, his hand sliding down from Beca’s upper arm to instead force his fingers between her own, holding fast to her hand. Stacie’s eyes follow the movement curiously.

Beca tries to shift away from Jesse and toward Cynthia Rose and Stacie, but Jesse only moves with her so that it looks like they’re walking in tandem. Jesse squeezes her hand hard in warning, and another thread of fear runs down Beca’s spine; she can’t let Cynthia Rose or Stacie get hurt.

“What’re you two doing here?” Cynthia Rose asks curiously.

“Just grabbing dinner,” Jesse says airily. “Right, Bec?”

He squeezes her hand again.

“Y-yeah, just some Chinese,” Beca manages, staring intently at Stacie.

A small frown appears between Stacie’s eyebrows. “Oh yeah? It’s nice that you guys are still hanging out.”

“Yep,” Beca says before Jesse can open his mouth. “Just can’t get away from each other.” As she speaks, she deliberately raises her free hand to play with the piercings on her right ear.

Both Cynthia Rose and Stacie’s eyes widen at the gesture.

Jesse doesn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, so, it was nice running into you, but we’re gonna—”

“Wait,” Cynthia Rose says quickly. “Didn’t you see Chloe’s text?”

Jesse pauses, looking annoyed. “What text?”

“I, um, haven’t been able to check my phone at all,” Beca replies, gently swinging hers and Jesse’s joined hands.

Stacie’s face becomes an impassive mask. “It was a group text. She just said to ‘come home now,’ so that’s why we’re headed out. You need a ride back?”

Jesse coughs. “Actually we—”

“It seemed important,” Stacie cuts him off. “And you know what Chloe’s like. Hell hath no fury.”

Beca has no idea of Chloe had actually sent any kind of text, but at the moment she doesn’t care. All that matters is that Cynthia Rose and Stacie had understood her.

Jesse tries again. “I’m sure that whatever she has going on will be fine without Beca.”

“That’s not really how Chloe operates,” Cynthia Rose says.

Stacie nods. “Yeah, when she sends group texts, she means business.”

Beca holds her breath.

A long moment passes. Stacie starts tapping her toe on the sidewalk.

“I—fine!” Jesse finally spits. “Great, sure. We’ll just go.”

“You need a ride?” Stacie asks again. “Cee and I drove.”

Beca opens her mouth, but Jesse beats her to it. “I drove her here. I can drive her home.”

“Oh, then I’ll just ride with you,” Stacie says smoothly, pulling her keys from her purse and handing them to Cynthia Rose. “Beca, I feel like I haven’t seen you all week, we’ve both been so busy. It’ll be great to catch up.”

“Definitely,” Beca says, trying to ignore the crushing pressure around her hand.

Jesse hesitates, and Beca knows he’s trying to come up with some excuse.

“I’ll just drive behind you guys,” Cynthia Rose adds. “Don’t mind me.”

Beca has to fight to keep the smile off her face. Cynthia Rose pretty much just ensured Jesse doesn’t make any detours driving them back to the Bella house.

Jesse seems to have realized the same thing. “Perfect,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Let’s go then,” Stacie urges, stepping close to Beca under the premise of taking cover under their umbrella and resting her hand on her lower back protectively. “Don’t want to be late for Chloe.”

“Of course not,” Jesse replies, the sarcasm in his tone obvious. Still, he leads the way back to his car, keeping hold of Beca’s hand. Stacie doesn’t pull away from Beca either, though, and she thinks that together they must make a strange sight, all crammed under the small umbrella. Jesse unlocks his car with the key fob and holds open the rear passenger side door for Stacie. She slides into the back seat gracefully, pulling the door closed behind herself. Jesse has to release Beca’s hand in order to open the door for her as well—keeping up appearances—and she slides into the passenger seat.

“You okay?” Stacie breathes as soon as the door shuts behind Beca, giving them precious few seconds alone before Jesse enters the car.

“No. He hurt my hand,” Beca whispers back, flexing out her fingers and wincing as the blood rushes back to her fingertips.

“I saw,” Stacie replies, her voice full of anger.

Then Jesse’s opening the driver’s door and climbing into the car. He slams the door hard enough to make the car rock, throws the umbrella behind his seat, and starts the car. Barely glancing over his shoulder, he pulls onto the road. Beca looks into the side mirror; Stacie’s white car, driven by Cynthia Rose, follows close behind.

They drive in silence. Jesse stares at the road, his hands tight around the wheel. Beca looks out the passenger window, her mind racing. She only risks one glance back at Stacie, who sits motionless in the backseat, her hand hidden in the pocket of her purse where Beca _knows _she keeps her pepper spray.

Cynthia Rose stays close behind them, the headlights of Stacie’s car cutting through the easing rain and reassuring Beca of her presence.

She’s terrified that at any second, Jesse will take a wrong turn. That he’ll drive her and Stacie to some secondary location and try to lose Cynthia Rose. But he never does. Before long, he’s driving them through the correct part of Barden, then into their neighborhood, and finally, down their block.

Still, Beca doesn’t breathe properly until he pulls into the driveway of the Bella house and turns off the car.

“Well?” he says harshly as Cynthia Rose pulls into the driveway directly behind them, effectively trapping them. “You’re here.”

Beca doesn’t hesitate, fumbling for the door handle. She opens the door, and as she pushes it open, she hears Stacie doing the same. It’s stopped raining completely.

“Beca!” a voice calls, and Beca steps out of the car to see Chloe positively sprinting toward her across the Bella front yard, white as a sheet. “Beca, run!”

“Wh—”

Beca’s throat stops working when she looks beyond Chloe and sees Jesse running after her, his expression horrified.

“He stole my car!” the Jesse running behind Chloe shouts, and Stacie starts screaming.

Beca’s brain has frozen with incomprehension. It doesn’t make sense. She has to be dreaming or hallucinating or _something _because Jesse just drove them to the Bella house and is still in the car. He can’t have been with Chloe, that’s impossible, he can’t have been in two places at once, and she knows she should run or scream like Stacie or do something, but she’s rooted to the spot, her body numb with shock until—

Jesse—the Jesse that had driven her home—grabs her from behind in a bear hug, pulling her to his chest, his crushing weight surrounding her, squeezing the air from her lungs. She flails on instinct, writhing in his grip, but he’s much stronger. He holds her tightly and starts moving, and she’s being hauled backward, away from the house and toward the street.

“No!”

She hears Stacie shout and Chloe scream, but she can barely focus on them. She struggles, flinging out her limbs, trying to escape. She tries making herself heavier, tries giving into gravity, but Jesse’s arms only tighten. Panic rises in her chest when she realizes he’s carried her to the road. She lashes out desperately and manages to hit Jesse in the neck just below his jaw; he gags, and his grip loosens. She struggles even harder and suddenly there are hands grabbing at her, pushing at him, as Chloe, Stacie, Cynthia Rose, and the _other _Jesse rip her free from him.

The Not-Jesse is shoved, hard, into the road as Beca is hauled back toward the house, sandwiched between Chloe and the real Jesse—she can just tell it’s him, it’s _her _Jesse—and there’s an abrupt revving noise, a deep shout, and a sickening thud, accompanied by bending metal and shattering glass.

Safe on the Bella yard, still between Chloe and Jesse, Beca looks back into the road and gasps.

The Jesse that had attacked her lies on the pavement, twisted and broken, his limbs at unnatural angles. He’d gone over the top of the car and must have been scratched by the windshield; cuts and scrapes cover what Beca can see of his body. The car—why does it look familiar?—that had hit him has already stopped, engine idling.

Beca stares at the still form on the ground. Her stomach rolls and she has to fight the urge to vomit.

“Um…” the Jesse at her side says softly, and she looks at him automatically. His face is ashen, his eyes fixed on the spot of the road where his doppelganger lies. Numbly, Beca looks around at the others. Chloe’s staring at the road, too, her expression more fierce than frightened. Beyond her, Stacie and Cynthia Rose are obviously shaken. Cynthia Rose keeps glancing between the broken Jesse on the road and the unharmed Jesse standing next to them.

Only a second has passed.

The car turns off and its door opens; Amy gets out of the driver’s seat, which explains why the car looks familiar: it’s Bumper’s. “Did I get him?” she asks, glancing at Chloe.

Chloe’s throat bobs up and down before she answers. “Y-yeah, I think you got him.”

Nodding, Amy walks over to the Jesse on the road, peering down at his unmoving form. “Pretty solid whack. He won’t be getting up.”

“Good,” Chloe breathes, glancing at Beca.

“I’m… you…” the Jesse next to Beca manages, sounding raspy. “You were right,” he finally manages, talking to Chloe.

“Yep,” she replies grimly.

Beca thinks she may have gone into shock. She feels lightheaded and floaty and can’t understand what she’s seeing.

“He’s… dead?” Stacie asks, her voice quivering slightly.

Before anyone can protest, Amy draws back a leg and kicks the Jesse on the ground, hard. “He’s not breathing,” she says. “I don’t wanna touch him to check for a pulse.”

“No, don’t touch him,” Cynthia Rose insists. “Just… leave it.”

“What…” Beca blinks the spots from her eyes.

Chloe steps away from her, cautiously moving toward the body. She leans over it, like Amy had. After a moment, she says, “His eyes… is that a contact lens?”

Beca doesn’t want to look, but the concern in Chloe’s voice draws her in, along with Jesse, Stacie, and Cynthia Rose. With great reluctance, she forces herself to look at the ruined face on the pavement. It’s turned to the side, resting one cheek on the blacktop, his upper body half-twisted and facing down. The one eye she can see is open and colored a startling amber, nothing like Jesse’s usual brown. On the pavement next to his face is a small film, blending almost perfectly into the pavement. It looks like a colored contact lens.

“His eyes,” Beca remembers, her voice sounding far away to her own ears. “He kept rubbing his eyes. I bet that’s why. He wasn’t used to them.”

“Aubrey did the same,” Chloe says, which only confuses Beca more.

“Aubrey?” she asks.

Chloe nods, her face pale. “They’re clones. Or doppelgangers, or aliens, or—something, I don’t know. But I talked to Aubrey’s. She looks—it _was _Aubrey. I had coffee with her. But then I called her, and she’s at the lodge. I bet she had color contacts, too.”

A headache has started to form behind Beca’s eyes.

“Ginger came home in a tizzy,” Amy supplies. “Explained. I knew it was only a matter of time before more of them popped up.”

“He stole my car,” Jesse adds, sounding like he has a head cold. “It was just gone, and I didn’t know where, so I came here to see if… well, I ran into Chloe, and she asked if I knew where you were,” he says to Beca. “And, well, she kind of explained and then we put it together and wondered if the _other _me…” he trails off, glancing at Beca. “Apparently, we were right. Did he—did you really think he was me?” he asks, voice hushed.

Beca nods, her mouth like sandpaper. “Yeah, I—I mean, of course I did. He looked like you. He picked me up in his—in your car after class. And he was so… normal, for a little. But then he got weird about—he just got really weird, and scary, and I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t think…”

“It was lucky we ran into them, honestly,” Stacie says. “We saw your text and were leaving the salon and happened to see them. Beca was great,” she adds. “She used the signal for ‘creepy guy’ that we do at the bars. She touched her ear, and we knew.”

“I told all the Bellas to come home,” Chloe says. “A group text. I sent it right after Amy, Jesse, and I figured it out.”

“Ummmm.” Amy raises her hand, staring hard at Stacie and Cynthia Rose. “Question. How do we know that you guys are you? Like maybe you’re just their clones.”

A very loaded silence falls.

A different kind of knot tightens in Beca’s stomach. She shifts away from Jesse slightly, carefully eyeing Stacie and Cynthia Rose. And, she realizes with a pang, Amy and Chloe might not be themselves. A wave of nausea crashes over her as she realizes she doesn’t know who she can trust.

“We’ll figure that out later,” Chloe says tightly.

“I mean, I’m obviously me,” Jesse says.

Stacie hums. “Unless there’s more than one clone thing.”

Jesse opens his mouth, then closes it, eyebrows drawing together.

“I mean,” Cynthia Rose starts, “Stacie and I have been together all afternoon, and Amy, if you and Chloe have been talking… and I don’t think Clone Amy would run over one of her kind,” she points out.

“I dunno,” Amy says, “could be a clever ruse.”

They all look at her.

“I’m me, but I’m just saying,” she shrugs. “If I were clone me and not _me _me, it’s what I’d do.”

“Helpful,” Beca mutters.

Chloe looks at Cynthia Rose. “Did you go to campus today?” she asks sharply.

Cynthia Rose blinks. “Uh, no. No classes today.”

Chloe’s lips tighten. “You’re you. I saw your… double, whatever, on campus today.”

“Oh, that’s... horrifying,” Cynthia Rose says, shuddering.

“Okay, look,” Chloe begins. “I think we just have to trust each other at this point. When the others start showing up, we’ll deal with it then. For now, maybe let’s just get inside.”

“What are we going to do with him?” Beca asks, purposely avoiding looking at the Jesse clone still lying on the road. “We can’t just leave him here. Someone’s going to call the cops.”

Chloe bites her lip, thinking.

“Trunk,” Jesse says abruptly, looking at Bumper’s now-dented, windshield-less car. “He’ll fit until we can sort it out.”

“Not it,” Amy says immediately, placing her index finger on the tip of her nose. “Not touching it. Nose goes.”

Jesse rolls his eyes and steps forward. “Just pop the trunk.”

Amy does, and they watch as he picks up the lifeless form with surprisingly little struggle. Beca glances around, making sure no one is peeking out their window or driving by, but the neighborhood is deserted. It doesn’t take long for Jesse to push the body into the trunk and close it.

“Done,” he says grimly, wiping his hands on his jeans. “That was so weird.”

“Right,” Chloe says with authority, clapping her hands together. Beca is reminded forcefully of Aubrey. “Everyone, into the house. We have to make a plan.”


	3. Refuge

Chloe’s heart rate doesn’t slow until they’re all safely inside the Bella house and the deadbolt is firmly in place.

She knows that, realistically, a locked door can only buy them so much time. Besides, there’s every possibility that their clones—or whatever they are—have the keys to the house. If they can call her from Aubrey’s number and steal Jesse’s car, she’s pretty sure they can do what they want.

She isn’t so worried about that right now, though. No, right now, she’s mostly worried about how pale Beca looks.

She watches as Beca perches on the far edge of the couch with Amy and Stacie, her eyes fixed on Jesse as he crosses the room to peer out the nearest window. Chloe can’t imagine what Beca must have gone through, what she must have thought when Jesse’s clone turned on her. If Aubrey’s clone had done anything like that…

“What do we do?” Cynthia Rose asks, joining Jesse in looking out of windows.

“Get ready?” Amy suggests. “Yeah, I’m gonna need more cars, though, if you want me to keep running them over.”

“Don’t you touch my car,” Stacie mumbles, her head in her hands and elbows resting on her knees. “That’s another of my goodies.”

“But… is everyone a clone? Like everyone in Barden?” Jesse asks, turning from the window and looking to Chloe. “Or just us? Because if it’s everyone...”

Stacie groans quietly. Chloe privately agrees, though she isn’t sure if it would be more or less terrifying if they were the only ones with lookalikes.

“What do they want?” Beca interrupts, her voice more raspy than usual, which Chloe assumes is from fear. Which is a shame, because she likes how it sounds.

“Well, okay,” she manages, trying to at least answer Jesse’s question. “There can’t be more, because it’d be on the news, right? Everyone would be freaking out.”

“I’m freaking out,” Cynthia Rose volunteers, testing a window to make sure it’s locked securely. “This is freaky shit.”

“Why would there be clones of just _us?_” Stacie asks, lifting her head from her hands. Her cheeks, in contrast to Beca’s paleness, are blotchy.

Jesse has started pacing, now looking out every single window he passes. His nervous energy raises goosebumps on Chloe’s arms, making her shiver.

“What do you think they want?” Beca interjects again, this time more loudly. Her hands fidget nervously in her lap, fingers twisting together.

“I…” she tries to come up with something—anything—to stop Beca looking so scared, but draws a blank. She has no idea what the clones want.

“I say we just run, the six of us,” Jesse says tersely. “We can pile into one car, or—or take a couple cars. As long as we get the hell out of Barden, we’ll be safe.”

“We can’t do that,” Chloe objects quickly. “We can’t leave the other Bellas.”

Jesse blinks at her, as if that hadn’t even occurred to him. Beca, though, is nodding slowly. Chloe knew she’d understand; they’re co-captains, and they have to protect the others.

“Would you guys have sex with your clones?” Stacie asks suddenly, tilting her head to the side.

Chloe hesitates, completely derailed. Beca’s face whips around to look at Stacie so quickly that Chloe wouldn’t be surprised if she’d hurt her neck.

“Like, I think it could be fun,” Stacie elaborates with a shrug. “Maybe they’re not _all_ evil clones and we should give it a try.”

“I guess... it would be like masturbating, right?” Chloe points out slowly.

Beca’s cheeks turn pink at that, but maybe that’s good; it’s much better than her earlier pallor.

“Aca-lesbians,” Amy stage-whispers.

Cynthia Rose glares at her. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Focus!” Jesse interrupts, sounding impatient. “They could be coming any minute.”

“So could I,” Stacie mutters, examining her nails.

Cynthia Rose coughs.

“Look, I…” Chloe starts, trying to regain her senses. “I don’t know why the Aubrey clone just wanted to talk, and why the Jesse one didn’t…” she trails off, unwillingly glancing at Beca.

Beca shifts on the couch, staring down into her lap. “He could have just… I mean, I was in the car. He could have just… driven away.”

Chloe’s stomach pangs at the thought.

After a prolonged silence, Jesse clears his throat. “Can we call the cops?” he asks. “If they’re trying to hurt us, I mean.”

“What good would that do?” Cynthia Rose snorts. “They’d think we’re crazy.”

“Maybe we are,” Amy muses. “Anyone accidentally drug our water supply with hallucinogens again?”

“Okay, no!” Chloe cuts in. “We’re not crazy. So, um, they’re just… it’s just doubles of us, and for some reason they’re… do you think this is a DSM stunt?” she asks, knowing she’s grasping at straws. “You know, throw us off?”

Beca snorts a little hysterically. “Are you serious right now?”

“I don’t know!” Chloe throws her hands into the air, frustrated. “The clones are just after us for some reason!”

The front door opens quickly and suddenly; Stacie lets out a shriek of surprise and Chloe whirls, startled. Ashley, Jessica, and Emily walk into the house, closing the door behind them.

“Why was the door locked?” Emily asks, frowning. “We never lock the door. Oh, and Chloe? We got your text to come home. What’s happening?”

Her question is greeted by silence. Chloe stares hard at the three of them, trying to spot any sign they might be their clones. Jesse moves to stand beside her, maybe trying to act as some kind of backup.

Emily’s eyes flick to him, then back to Chloe. “Guys? What …”

“Are you… you?” Beca asks, her tone guarded.

Emily looks utterly bewildered.

Stacie claps hand to her forehead. “Oh my God, we’re so stupid. Everyone, take out your contacts, now.”

Chloe lets her eyes slide closed. Of course. It’s so obvious. The clones have to wear color contacts, so all they have to do is check for those.

“Um, how are we supposed to see?” Emily asks, confused.

“Yeah, I want to know when I’m being attacked, not just see a giant blur,” Cynthia Rose quips.

“Attacked?” Jessica’s eyebrows draw together.

“Oh my God, here,” Stacie sighs, reaching up to her own face. She holds an eyelid open with one hand and delicately uses the index finger of her other hand to pluck out her contact lens.

Beca makes a noise of protest. “That’s not proper hygiene—”

“See?” Stacie blinks a few times, one lens balanced on the end of her finger. Both her eyes remain their usual color. “No weird eyes.”

Chloe steps closer, peering into Stacie’s eyes. In one eye, she can clearly see the border of a contact lens around Stacie’s iris, but not in the eye Stacie had just pulled the lens from. “You’re good.”

Emily tries again. “Does someone want to explain—”

“Contacts first,” Cynthia Rose says sharply, looking at her suspiciously.

Emily looks bewildered but does what she’s told. Mimicking Stacie, she pulls out one contact and then stands blinking at them, both her eyes their typical color.

“Ashley and Jessica?” Beca asks.

“We don’t need contacts,” Ashley says. “We’ve got 20/20.”

“Chloe?” Amy asks.

“Yep,” Chloe replies, anticipating Amy’s question and already moving toward Ashley and Jessica. Jesse stays close behind her, which she appreciates, but a quick look into both Ashley and Jessica’s eyes confirms that neither of them is wearing any kind of contact lens. “They’re good.”

“Awesome,” Emily says, sounding grumpy. “Now would you guys—”

This time, the sound of the lock scraping in the door gives them some warning; Chloe’s ready when Flo comes stumbling through the doorway, slamming it behind her and breathing hard. “I got here as fast as I—” she cuts off, staring with wide eyes in Beca’s direction.

“Take out your contacts!” Amy barks.

“I—what?” Flo asks, glancing at her. “No time, you guys, there’s some weird mojo, I saw… weren’t you just outside?” she asks Beca with a frown.

Beca blinks. “Uh, no?”

Chloe’s blood runs cold.

Flo stares at Beca, nonplussed. “But… I _just _saw—”

“Flo, contacts, everyone else, contacts, and then we’ll explain,” Chloe interrupts. If Flo’s right and Beca’s clone is nearby, the rest could arrive any second. They need to be ready.

It doesn’t take long to confirm everyone’s identity; Flo, Jesse, and Cynthia Rose remove their contacts to reveal their normal eyes underneath, and Beca, Amy, and Chloe don’t wear contacts. Still, Chloe checks everyone’s eyes carefully to confirm. Beca volunteers to check Chloe’s eyes, and Chloe has to hold her breath when Beca’s face gets close to hers.

“She’s good,” Beca eventually says.

“We’re all good, then,” Stacie sighs, sounding relieved.

Emily clicks her tongue impatiently.

“Clones, Legacy, try to keep up,” Amy says before Chloe can speak. “Of all of us have clones. Except Jesse, ‘cuz I hit his with Bumper’s car.”

Emily’s eyes go so wide that Chloe’s surprised they don’t fall from her face.

Flo, however, only nods and crosses herself. “I knew this day would come. Back in my country—”

“What do you mean?” Jessica asks, looking between Amy and Chloe. “Clones? What?”

“Look,” Chloe says, trying to be both quick and gentle with her explanation. “There are freaky replicas of all of us, we think, and they’re watching us. And they’re trying to get us. We don’t know why.”

“And they have color contacts but yellow eyes,” Stacie supplies helpfully.

“Right,” Ashley says, her voice faint.

“So, what, we have to keep taking our contacts out all the time so we know who’s who?” Flo asks a little desperately.

Chloe pauses, exchanging a look with Stacie.

Beca leans forward suddenly. “No, just... everyone, take a—a piece of string or something and wrap it around your wrist. Like a bracelet so we know we’re us.”

“Oh!” Emily exclaims, digging in her bag. “I know I have… we were just crafting, I have it…” she mutters before pulling out a ball of blue yarn with a victorious smile. “Bracelet, anyone?” she asks a little too brightly for the situation. She makes the rounds, tying a piece of string around each of their wrists and cutting it with scissors she also finds in her bag.

“The clones won’t have these,” Chloe says with satisfaction, examining her new yarn bracelet.

From the bottom of the stairwell, Lilly whispers, “They can take them off our dead bodies.”

Everyone jumps, heads whipping in her direction to stare.

“When did she get here?” Amy mutters out of the corner of her mouth, pointedly moving away to create space between herself and Lilly.

Beca recovers first. “Lilly, contacts?”

Lilly shakes her head.

“I’m not checking her eyes,” Stacie declares. Beside her, both Cynthia Rose and Beca cringe at the thought.

“Oh my God, I’ll just do it,” Jessica volunteers bravely, stepping close to Lilly and peering into her face. Chloe finds herself holding her breath; even regularly, she’s not sure she’d want to invade Lilly’s space like that.

Finally, Jessica steps back with a sigh. “She’s good. And you guys are cowards.”

Lilly looks down at her feet and starts humming a tune that Chloe can’t identify.

“Uh—”

“Look,” Jesse says abruptly. “I’m worried about the Trebles. I think I should go over there and make sure they’re okay.”

Beca frowns. “But you’re safer here.”

“And we could use some help,” Emily says.

Chloe immediately prickles; they don’t need Jesse. He hadn’t really done anything to stop his own clone. “I mean, we can probably just—”

“The Treble house is right next door,” Jesse interrupts her, looking at Beca as he speaks. “If anything happens or you guys need help, I can be right back. I just—I have to make sure they’re okay over there.”

Beca hesitates, running her tongue over her front teeth. “Well…”

“My clone’s dead, anyway,” Jesse reminds her softly. “I’ll be okay, Bec.”

It’s the use of the nickname that tips Chloe over the edge. “Jesse’s right,” she says, trying not to sound dismissive. “He should make sure the Trebles are okay. We can always call for help later.”

She’s looking at Beca, but out of the corner of her eye she catches a glimpse of Cynthia Rose smirking at Stacie. She ignores them.

“I… okay,” Beca agrees finally, her eyes flicking between Chloe and Jesse. “Just be careful.”

“I will. Promise,” Jesse says.

Chloe feels faintly ill at the fragility in his tone.

“Also, if you could maybe not tell Bumper about his car just yet, that’d be, uh, awesome,” Amy suggests.

Something occurs to Chloe then. “Yeah, how exactly did you get his car?”

Amy’s face goes blank, the way it always does when Bumper is mentioned. “Ummm.”

“Okay, great, I’m gonna go then,” Jesse says, crossing the room to get to the front door. He pauses just before leaving to look back. “You be careful, too, okay? Let me know if anything’s…”

“Got it,” Beca says, and then Jesse opens the door and is gone.

A ringing silence follows the closing door. Chloe tries not to focus on how concerned Beca still looks for Jesse.

“Well… he’s dead,” Amy says with a shrug.

Around her, Stacie and Cynthia Rose nod solemnly. “It’s how the movies go,” Stacie agrees.

Beca makes some annoyed noise of protest, but Chloe’s distracted by how Flo still looks at Beca uncomfortably. Her chest tightens.

“Flo?” she asks. “You said you saw Beca outside?”

Flo nods, and the mood in the room darkens immediately.

“How—how close to the house?” Chloe asks timidly, not sure she really wants to know.

Flo purses her lips before answering. “About halfway between here and campus. I talked to her, and she said… she was waiting for the others first. I didn’t know…” Flo trails off, looking uncomfortable.

“They’re close,” Cynthia Rose breathes.

“What?” Emily asks sharply.

Chloe swallows. Cynthia Rose is right; if Flo had seen Beca’s clone that close almost five minutes ago, they’re running out of time. “We have to start getting ready.”

“What?” Beca asks, looking around at them all. “Why don’t we just—we’re all here now, let’s just run and get in a car and—”

“Too late,” Ashley breathes, staring out the front window.

Chloe’s heart lurches; she moves so quickly to the window that it’s a miracle no furniture is sent flying. She stares out into the driveway, her throat tight, fighting against the scream threatening to burst from her chest.

It’s the clones.

All of them. Walking up the driveway and toward the house. It’s Stacie and Amy and Cynthia Rose and Aubrey. It’s Emily with her backpack and Lilly with her bangs and Flo with her earrings.

When Chloe sees herself, her brain short-circuits. It’s like looking in a mirror but with deliberate mistakes; a mirror is a reflection and even photographs aren’t the same as seeing her own face like this. There’s no doubt in her mind that this—this _clone _of her had been the one watching her on campus. It makes her head hurt too much to stare at her own face out the window, so her eyes slide to the person walking next to her.

Behind her, the Bellas gasp or cry out or make noises of surprise, but Chloe tunes them out; all she can see is Beca. The Beca outside. The Beca that looks so much like _her _Beca that it’s Chloe’s first instinct to run to her and pull her close. It isn’t Beca, though, because there’s no way Beca would ever look at her like that, all cold and calculating.

“What are they doing?” the Beca behind Chloe asks, her voice quivering. “What the _fuck _are they doing?”

Chloe can’t answer.

She watches as the clones walk toward the house at a leisurely pace, staring up at the second floor, looking around the yard. They start to split away from one another, going around the sides of the house. Clone Beca, Aubrey, and Stacie go to the right, disappearing from view, even as Clone Cynthia Rose, Emily, Lilly, and Flo move left. Clone Amy and Chloe’s own double, though, stay where they are at the front of the house, staring into the window.

The Chloe outside smiles at the Chloe inside, tilting her head almost curiously.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Cynthia Rose chants. “Shit, you guys, we have to do something.”

“They’re… us,” Stacie breathes.

“Not all of us,” Ashley mutters, and Chloe tears her gaze from her clone to look back into the sitting room. She realizes that Ashley’s right; neither her nor Jessica had clones.

“Of course not,” Jessica shrugs.

For some reason, that snaps Chloe out of it. “Okay, Bellas!” she cries out, relieved her voice sounds strong and steady. “They’re here. We need to get ready.”

“Are you crazy?” Emily asks, even as Stacie digs frantically for her pepper spray and Lilly pulls a knife out of nowhere. Amy disappears into the kitchen, and Chloe’s fairly sure she’s going for the booze.

“We might have to fight,” Chloe says bracingly, looking at each of the Bellas in turn. Cynthia Rose looks terrified but determined. Emily looks nauseated. Ashley and Jessica seem bored. “I hope you all have been keeping up with cardio, because we’re going to need it,” Chloe finishes, catching Beca’s eye last.

Beca doesn’t look scared. She stares back at Chloe grimly, her lips set in a hard line. A silent message passes between them: it isn’t enough. This is going to end badly, and they both know it.

Somewhere upstairs, a window breaks, the sound of shattering glass more deafening than gunfire.


	4. Chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence and implied violence. No gore.

“What was that?” Cynthia Rose asks loudly, looking toward the ceiling. “What the _hell _was—”

“They’re in the house,” Emily breathes, knuckles white as she clenches her hands around her bag.

Chloe locks eyes with Beca. She knows they’re thinking the same thing. After a moment, Beca’s throat bobs as she swallows and she gives a single nod.

“Uh, no way,” Stacie says suddenly. “I saw that. No way.”

Chloe glances over, ready to argue, but Stacie beats her to it.

“I saw what you two just did,” she repeats, eyes flicking between Chloe and Beca. “There’s no way.”

“No… what?” Ashley asks.

Beca opens her mouth, but Stacie cuts her off. “They’re thinking of going upstairs to see what the breaking glass was.”

Chloe has to refrain from rolling her eyes. “I mean, someone has to, and since Beca and I are co-captains, then—”

“We’re not splitting up,” Stacie counters firmly. “Not now.”

Cynthia Rose nods emphatically. “That’s how it goes down in movies. They split up and die horribly.”

Beca does roll her eyes at that. “Okay, this isn’t a movie, and we do really need to—”

The sound of heavy footfalls upstairs interrupts her, and they all look toward the ceiling. Chloe finds herself holding her breath, ears straining as she tries to count how many of the clones have infiltrated the house.

“What do we do?” Flo whispers. “We can’t just wait here.”

“Yes, we can,” Amy counters.

“No way,” Beca argues. “They’ll be expecting us to just stay here. We have to counterattack. It’s what Aubrey would tell us to do, right?”

“We’d surprise them,” Chloe agrees. “Look, we should really just go and—”

“Then we all go,” Stacie says, an edge in her voice.

Chloe hesitates, knowing Stacie isn’t going to like her answer. “There are just as many of them as there are of us.”

“Not quite,” Jessica mutters.

“So they could surround us easily if they have different points of entry,” Chloe continues, following Beca’s lead in channeling Aubrey. “The best way to do this is to split up and try to corner them.”

“Before they corner us,” Amy mutters.

“Unless anyone else has a better plan?” Chloe asks, becoming impatient.

Stacie hesitates. No one else says anything.

“Right,” Beca sighs, stepping forward to stand next to Chloe. “We’ll divide. Chloe and I will check out that noise upstairs, Jessica and Ashley if you want to take the attic, Stacie, Flo, and Emily check the basement, and Amy, Cynthia Rose, and Lilly stay on this floor?”

Flo raises her hand. “Why are we checking the haunted basement for clones?”

“And... break,” Beca says, making shooing motions with her hands. “Let’s just… um, be careful,” she finishes, looking suddenly nervous.

“On three or after three?” Stacie asks, albeit unhappily, and to Chloe’s relief, it makes Beca smile a little.

“Be safe, everyone,” Chloe says, not allowing herself to think about any alternative. “We’ve got this.”

Flo crosses herself. Lilly whispers something that makes Amy look at her in horror and sidestep away.

“Let’s go,” Beca says firmly. If she’s faking her confidence, it doesn’t show.

Chloe leads the way, hoping she seems as brave as Beca does in front of the others. She forces herself to start up the stairs without looking back or pausing, even though she’s quaking so badly inside that it’s a miracle her legs don’t give out going up the steps. She feels Beca’s reassuring presence behind her and tries to think of Beca and only Beca rather than what might lie ahead of them.

She and Beca stop on the landing, but Jessica and Ashley continue, heading to the attic. Chloe notices they’re holding hands, and she briefly thinks of grabbing Beca’s hand, but doesn’t want to betray her fear.

She shivers; cold air streams over them and across the landing, and she knows it must be coming from the broken window. It takes her another second to realize the source has to be in her bedroom; hers is the only door left open on the landing.

“My room?” she whispers to Beca.

Beside her, Beca stiffens. “Gotta be.”

Chloe takes a deep breath. Then another. “I suppose we should…”

“Yeah,” Beca agrees quietly. “We should check it out.”

Neither of them makes a move. It’s much harder to act brave upstairs, separated from the other Bellas.

“Okay,” Chloe mutters. “Let’s…” she starts forward, again leading the way as Beca falls behind her. She imagines Beca’s head swiveling, watching their backs as they creep forward. They pass Cynthia Rose and Lilly’s closed bedroom door, along with Stacie’s. With each door they pass, Chloe’s anxiety only grows, winding into a tight spring in her chest; she half-expects one of the clones to jump out at them from one of the bedrooms at any second.

They pass the hall closet and creep closer to Chloe’s room, tiptoeing to remain as quiet as possible. A sudden noise makes Chloe lurch forward, startled, and she whirls in time to see Beca pulling on a long-sleeved jacket and shutting the closet door.

“Sorry,” she winces. “I got cold. The breeze.”

“It’s okay,” Chloe says, heart hammering in her chest. “Ready to…”

“Yeah,” Beca says, her eyes shifting beyond Chloe to focus on her bedroom.

This time, Chloe doesn’t stop herself from taking Beca’s hand. Beca doesn’t pull away, but grips Chloe’s hand in return just as tightly, her touch warm, steady, and familiar. It gives Chloe the strength to take the final few steps, never before having been so frightened to enter her own bedroom.

They enter slowly, Chloe’s eyes jumping to the corners of the room, looking for any sign of a clone. The room is empty, however, which both calms and confuses Chloe. She’d thought it would be some kind of trap, so to find no one waiting for them is almost more disconcerting than if the clones had been there.

Chloe drops Beca’s hand to cross the room and examine the window, just for something to do. It’s completely shattered, the glittering, deadly-sharp shards sprinkling the carpet below it. Chloe sighs, knowing it’ll be a pain to fix. The clones seem long gone from the room, but for good measure, Chloe makes herself kneel to the floor to check under her bed. She’d been prepared to see eyes—her own, maybe—staring back at her, but the dark space is empty. She sits back upright just as Beca closes the door behind them with a muffled click of the latch.

“Bec?” Chloe asks, thrown by the uncertain look on Beca’s face.

“Yeah, I just…” Beca huffs, rubbing at the back of her neck. “Don’t want the others to hear.”

“Hear what?”

Beca takes a deep breath, pursing her lips. She moves her hand from her neck to instead rake through her hair; Chloe can see it shaking from across the room. Concerned, she stands from her kneel.

“Beca?” she asks again. “What—”

“I’m scared,” Beca finally says in a puff of air. “What’s gonna happen?” she asks, her voice quivering. “To us, to the others, I’m just—this is some freaky shit, and I can’t—” she breaks off, biting her lip and glaring at the wall.

“Woah, hey,” Chloe tries to calm her, moving closer slowly. “I know this is—it’s insane,” she laughs humorlessly, “but, I mean, we outnumber them, you know? And, well, now that we know what’s happening, I think we can—”

“We don’t know, though,” Beca interrupts, becoming agitated. “We have no idea where they came from or what they want.”

“We can deal with that stuff after all this is done,” Chloe says, now close enough to Beca to take both her hands into her own. Through the closed door, she can hear muffled noises and maybe some shouting from the others, but she tunes them out; all that matters is making Beca feel better.

“We’ve got this Bec,” Chloe continues, moving still closer, keeping her voice soft. “I’m scared too. But we can do this. We have the Bellas and we have—we have each other.”

Beca’s eyes flick down to her lips and back up.

Chloe’s stomach flips and her breath catches; without intending to, she’s created a little bubble around herself and Beca. She moves forward automatically, until she’s so close to Beca that she can feel the puff of Beca’s breath against her lips.

This time when Beca’s eyes dart down to her mouth, they stay there.

Chloe’s pretty sure her heart has stopped beating. Still, it’s the easiest thing in the world to lean forward until their noses bump together. She feels more than hears Beca’s breath catch; all it would take is the smallest tilt of either of their heads for their lips to connect.

Chloe’s hands rise from Beca’s hands, up the sleeves of her jacket, her fingertips tracing over the soft, delicate skin there.

Skin that is completely devoid of a yarn bracelet. Chloe’s eyes flick up and find the outlines of lenses around Beca’s irises.

Chloe feels as if she’s been hit by a train. Even as Beca’s clone starts to close the gap between their lips, Chloe shoves her away with all her strength, and stumbles backward, a scream caught in her throat.

Clone Beca’s back hits the door with a heavy thud, but barely a second later she surges forward, pulling a long knife from within the jacket. Instinctively, Chloe knows that if she had kissed Clone Beca, that knife would have appeared between her shoulder blades.

Clone Beca slashes with the knife, darting forward and aiming it at Chloe’s face. Chloe dodges to the side but Clone Beca is just as fast. She turns, swiping again with the knife. Chloe moves, but this time, the knife passes so close that it catches her yarn bracelet, slicing it off her wrist so it lands on the floor.

Adrenaline pours into her veins. She knows she has to end this or sooner or later, Clone Beca won’t miss. The next time the knife comes sailing at her, pointed at her stomach, Chloe jumps backward instead of to the side. The unexpected movement throws the clone off balance and she stumbles; Chloe takes her chance and grabs for the heaviest object in reach, which happens to be her desk lamp. She swings it at Clone Beca blindly, ripping the cord from the outlet. It connects with the side of Clone Beca’s face solidly and she drops.

When she goes down, the knife falls from her hand to land on the carpet. There’s an instant—a flash of a second—where Chloe _knows _she should grab the knife and end the fight permanently. Clone Beca is disoriented and in pain; it would be easy to stab her.

But even the thought makes Chloe’s stomach roll. The person on the floor looks far too much like Beca, the real Beca, even down to her clothing apart from the jacket. She can’t do it. So instead, she picks up the knife and throws it, aiming for the already-broken window. It sails outside, presumably landing somewhere far below, but Chloe doesn’t wait around to find out. She whirls and flings open her bedroom door, escaping, calling out desperately for the real Beca even as Beca’s clone struggles to get up.

* * *

Being grabbed and shoved unceremoniously into the coat closet was not the highlight of Beca’s day. At the very least, it was ironic.

She’d only had time to register the sound of the door opening next to her before rough hands gripped her upper arm and dragged her into the closet. Long brown hair whipped past her face and just like that, the door closed on her and she was plunged into darkness.

She immediately tries the handle of the closet, unsurprised to find it locked. Her first impulse is to shout and pound on the door to get Chloe’s attention—a brick slides into her stomach as she realizes Chloe’s outside now with some clone—but she stops herself. Making any amount of noise might alert the other clones, drawing them to her like a shark to blood in the water. Beca shudders; she really wishes Jesse hadn’t made her watch _Jaws_.

Indecision paralyzes her. She’s desperate to break out of the closet but equally as terrified by the idea of getting the attention of any clones. A small whine tears free of her throat as she realizes she’s low on options.

“BECA!”

Beca jumps so violently she almost falls into the closet door; she manages to catch her balance just as another of Chloe’s screams pierces the closet door and echoes around her mind. “Beca, where are you? Help!”

“No, no, no, no,” Beca mutters frantically, torn. Should she stay hidden or burst free? What if it’s not even Chloe, but Chloe’s double?

“Beca! Please, help!”

The sound of Chloe’s desperate cry stabs through Beca’s chest like a knife, and her decision is made. She spins, scanning the dark closet for anything she could use to get out. For a wild moment, she debates using a wire coat hanger to pick the lock, but figures she’d probably end up breaking it off in the handle. Her eyes drop to the floor, finding several pairs of heels and some boots.

“Beca!” Chloe screams again, somehow sounding more agonized than ever.

Beca reaches for a boot. She raises it above the door handle and brings it down with all her strength. She bashes the heel of the boot against the handle, then again, and again, each swing more hurried than the last as Chloe’s voice starts to fade. Finally, she feels it give; with one more hard swing, the handle breaks off the inside of the closet, falling to the floor. Beca drops the boot to shove her entire weight against the door and it flies open, depositing her into the empty hallway.

She pauses, disoriented, taking in the closed doors surrounding her; even Chloe’s bedroom door is closed, though she thinks she hears some kind of scuffle behind it. She takes a step toward the door, thinking Chloe might be inside, only for Chloe’s voice to sound from behind her, down the stairs.

Beca’s mind goes blank and she hurls herself in that direction, pounding down the steps, unable to think about anything but Chloe and whatever could draw those horrible sounds from her. She trips on the last steps and stumbles down the stairs, managing to land shakily on her feet. Around her, chaos ensues; she glimpses Flo with her back braced against the basement door as if struggling to keep something down there, sees Emily wearing a blue bracelet grappling a Stacie without a bracelet, sees Cynthia Rose running to help. Beca only has a moment to take this in, because Chloe’s screaming again from the direction of the kitchen, her voice full of terror.

Beca moves as quickly as she can, rounding the corner and vaulting the end of the couch, desperate to get to Chloe. “Chloe!” she shouts, “hang on!”

As she goes, she sprints past Amy struggling with her own clone; as soon as the Amy with the bracelet sees her, she fires a punch into Clone Amy’s face, sending her down. She whirls and lunges for Beca; Beca tries to dodge with a yelp, but Amy’s arms encircle her legs and they both drop in a tangle of limbs.

“It’s not her!” Amy yells directly into Beca’s ear, panicked. “I know what she’s doing and it’s not her!”

“Amy get off me!” Beca shouts, not registering Amy’s words. “I have to—”

“No! It isn’t her!” Amy grips Beca’s arms, holding her down. Beca struggles against her, trying to wriggle away; Chloe’s cries have faded again.

Something impacts them both, and Amy cries out. Beca glances around her to see Amy’s clone having latched onto Amy’s feet. She starts pulling, and Amy is slowly dragged backward, and in her distraction, Beca tears herself free and picks herself up from the ground.

“Beca, don’t!” Amy pleads once more, something blue caught in her fist; Beca glances down at her own wrist to see her bracelet had come off in Amy’s hand in the struggle.

Beca hesitates; she’s pretty sure Amy can handle it, but her instinct is to help Amy fight. But then Chloe screams again, this time from deeper within the house, and Beca’s every cell urges her to run to her.

“I—sorry,” Beca gasps, turning back toward the kitchen. She bursts inside, ready to fight, but finds it empty and swears violently. It would be a lot easier to find Chloe if she stayed in one place.

At that moment Chloe calls out again, sounding more confused than scared. “Beca? Where are you?”

It’s coming from the sitting room this time; Chloe must have doubled back. With a huff, Beca sprints back the way she came, past Amy and her clone again. Amy now has her clone in a headlock, too preoccupied to notice Beca this time.

When Beca gets to the sitting room, Chloe’s already there, head turning in every direction, apparently looking for her. As soon as Chloe sees her, her shoulders relax. “Beca, thank God,” she sighs.

Relief crashes over Beca and, without thinking, she pulls Chloe into a crushing hug, holding her tight. “There you are,” she says, and then pulls away quickly, flustered. “I was so—I’m glad,” Beca manages lamely.

Chloe smiles haggardly. “Yeah, you’ll never believe—”

“Beca!” Chloe’s voice screams from upstairs. “Beca!”

Beca’s mouth goes dry. She and the Chloe in front of her lock eyes for a second before Beca looks down at her wrists. Chloe isn’t wearing a bracelet.

When she looks back up, Chloe’s already watching her, eyes wide and earnest. “No, Bec, it’s—”

“Beca, I need you! Help!” the voice from upstairs cries.

Beca breaks out in a cold sweat; she can feel a drop of it trickle down her spine. “I—”

The Chloe in front of her swallows. “Beca, ignore her! It’s me.”

“Beca!” Chloe’s voice shouts from upstairs, full of anguish.

“You—you’re not wearing a bracelet,” Beca manages.

The Chloe she’s with shakes her head. “I was fighting y—it got torn off in a fight. You’re not wearing yours,” she points out. “It’s me, I _promise_.”

“I—I can’t—”

“Please!” the Chloe upstairs cries out again, her voice taking on a new pitch and turning hoarse from the strain.

Beca can’t take any more; she turns away from the Chloe in front of her and starts for the stairs. She bounds up them, two at a time, her thighs burning. The Chloe she’d left is shouting and chasing after her, but Beca’s got a head start.

At the landing, she pauses only a second. The sound of sobbing reaches her ears and she throws herself toward Chloe’s room. She ignores the Chloe behind her and, flinging the door open, rushes inside and—is immediately grabbed from behind in a bear hug, her arms pinned to her side.

“No, what—”

“Got ya,” Chloe breathes in her ear. Only this is Clone Chloe, Beca can tell immediately. “Knew you’d be stupid enough to fall for that one.”

“The fake crying at the end really sold it,” another voice says, and Beca’s blood runs cold. She looks over to see herself—her clone—grinning at her, though also from an armlock; for some reason, Aubrey’s clone has the other Beca held fast.

Beca hesitates, confused, only for horrible realization to hit as soon as the Chloe that had been chasing after her—the real Chloe—arrives in the room, expression terrified. The terror on her face turns to uncertainty, her eyes flicking between the real Beca and her clone.

* * *

Chloe gasps, trying to catch her breath. In front of her, Aubrey holds fast to one Beca and her own replica holds another. Both Becas look scared out of their minds, and both are staring at her as if trying to send the message that _they’re _the real one. Neither of them has their bracelets.

Chloe isn’t angry at Beca for falling for the trick. If she’d been in Beca’s place, hearing her scream out for help like that, she’d have done the same. She had no way of knowing that Chloe had lost her bracelet earlier, too.

It had terrified her enough to hear her own voice call out in such pain. She can’t imagine what hearing Beca sound like that would have done to her.

Aubrey’s clone shifts her hold on the Beca she’s restraining, putting her in a one-armed chokehold. She pulls out a long knife, identical to the one Clone Beca had threatened Chloe with earlier. Aubrey smiles, bringing the blade to Beca’s face and tracing the flat of it along Beca’s cheek, even as that Beca flinches and struggles to pull away. “Which one?” Aubrey asks sweetly.

“This one!” the Beca in Aubrey’s hold gasps. “I’m me! Chloe, it’s me.”

“Don’t listen to her!” the other Beca cuts in. Chloe’s clone has pulled out a knife as well and holds it close to that Beca’s face. “Chlo, think about it, you know it’s me.”

“Your choice, Chloe,” her clone smiles at her, making Chloe’s skin crawl. “Aubrey and I don’t have all day. You say the word, and we’ll kill whichever one you decide.”

“Your decision,” Aubrey purrs. “You can help the Bellas by having us kill one of our own. We’ll do it. Just give the word.”

“Don’t!” the Beca being held by Chloe spits. “They’ll kill me either way because I’m me!”

“That’s what they want you to think,” the other Beca manages, her face reddening as Aubrey’s chokehold tightens around her throat. “She’s lying, Chlo, come on.”

Chloe stares between them, unable to spot any difference. She’s scanning them, trying to see their clothes, their hair, anything, but they’re too similar, Beca’s clone apparently having shed her jacket. They’re identical.

“Pick, Chloe,” Aubrey whispers.

Chloe’s chest aches and spots dance in front of her eyes. “I won’t,” she says, hearing the quiver in her own voice.

“Then we’ll choose for you,” Aubrey says. “You won’t like our decision.”

“Five seconds, Chloe,” her clone breathes. “Your call.”

“Chloe, think about it,” the Beca in Clone Chloe’s grip says desperately. “Who was I running to save? Who would I have gone to when I got here, you or Aubrey?”

“Four seconds,” Aubrey says.

“Would you shut up?” the Beca in her grasp says, glaring at the other Beca. “Aubrey grabbed me as soon as I got here because they knew I’d have gone to you. She’s trying to trick you, Chloe, it’s me!”

“Three,” Aubrey counts down, her knife moving to rest under Beca’s chin.

“I—I pick…” Chloe doesn’t even know what she’s saying; how can she possibly choose?

“Two,” her clone says, knife poised and ready.

Chloe’s eyes flash between both Becas desperately, no closer to making any decision than she had been when she’d walked into the room. She’s either about to watch Aubrey kill Beca or watch herself do it, and they’ll choose the real one.

“One…” Aubrey says, her eyes dropping to focus on the Beca in her grip.

“Hey!” a new voice shouts, and Lilly flies through the already-broken window, swinging in on a rope. “Back off!” she says, and for a moment, all any of them do is stare at her.

“You’re not supposed to talk,” Aubrey’s clone says with a frown.

“You’re not supposed to exist,” Lilly counters, and lunges at Aubrey with her own knife.

All hell breaks loose. Aubrey shoves her hostage away so she can defend herself; that Beca straightens up immediately and joins the fight. Chloe’s clone is distracted, so the Beca in her arms—the real Beca, Chloe realizes—takes the opportunity to grab at her knife and shove her to the side, directly into the melee. She locks eyes with Chloe and they hesitate, torn over whether they should escape or help Lilly.

Lilly decides for them. “Go!” she shouts, and the still-unexpected volume of her voice startles Chloe into action.

“Come on!” she cries, reaching out her hand; Beca grabs it and together they run from the room, leaving Lilly to battle the three clones.

“I’m sorry!” Chloe gasps as they run over the landing. “I wasn’t sure which—”

“I’m sorry, too!” Beca cuts her off. “Let’s just go!”

They pound down the stairs with no real destination in mind—maybe they should just escape the house altogether—only to collide with Stacie as she rounds the corner at top speed. Stacie raises her arms and shrieks in reflex, and Chloe sees she’s wearing her bracelet.

“It’s us!” Beca says quickly. “We lost our bracelets fighting earlier and—”

“Amy told me,” Stacie cuts her off. “We need a plan, fast.”

“What do we do?” Chloe asks wildly, near hysterics.

Stacie shakes her head, sparing a moment to glance over her shoulder “I think maybe—Cynthia Rose and I talked—there’s gasoline in the garage for the lawnmower. We just have to use it.”

Chloe stares at her, not understanding. She’s sluggish, her brain still trapped in her bedroom with clones and knives at Beca’s throat.

Beside her, Beca makes a noise of surprise in the back of her throat. “You mean—burn it?”

Stacie nods, her mouth in a thin line. “We have to.”

“I…” Beca blinks looking lost for a moment until her expression hardens. “Okay.”

“Great,” Stacie says grimly. “We just need to get them all in one place. Get your valuables.”

It finally clicks, and Chloe gasps in horror. “Woah, wait, you’re not… we can’t just burn the—”

“We have to,” Stacie interrupts. “We’re running out of options. Tell the others, quick, and I’ll get the gas. Meet back here in two minutes.”


	5. The End

Stacie turns away, striding with purpose toward the front door. Beca knows she’s going to the garage, where the gas is stored with the lawnmower.

From beside her, Chloe makes a soft sound of distress. Beca looks over and is startled by how pale Chloe looks. Her eyes slide out of focus and she sways on her feet.

“Woah, hey—” Beca says, reaching out to steady her. “Chlo, deep breaths, okay, you need to—”

“Bec, what—” Chloe gasps, her eyes wide as they dart around the room. “The house, we can’t just…” she trails off, pressing her hand to her mouth.

“I know,” Beca breathes, heart twisting at the thought of losing their home. “I _know_. But if we do it, this ends. We’ll be safe.”

Chloe shakes her head, hand still at her mouth and eyes welling with tears.

“Chloe, we have to, okay? It’s—it’s just a house. We’ll be safe, and that’s what matters, right?”

Chloe gulps, and for a moment, Beca isn’t sure she’d even heard her.

“Chl—”

“Okay,” Chloe manages shakily, blinking hard. “Okay. We—we have to tell the others.”

“Okay,” Beca breathes back, looking around them. She can still hear Lilly fighting the three clones upstairs, and she’s not sure where anyone else is. “Let’s… kitchen?” she asks, gesturing that way.

Chloe nods and they move, having to pick their way over the sitting room floor littered with shredded chunks of couch, smashed picture frames, and strewn ornaments. Out of the corner of her eye, Beca sees Chloe bend down and pick up one of the photos from its broken frame. Chloe folds the photo, carefully sliding it into her pocket.

Beca glances away, and her stomach pangs; she catches sight of a body lying half-obscured behind the ruined couch, wearing Amy’s clothes.

“No,” she whispers numbly, moving toward the immobile form, looking for a bracelet on her wrist.

Before she can get close enough, though, she hears a, “Psst!” and looks over her shoulder automatically. Amy stands in the doorway of the kitchen, her arm lifted to show the blue yarn adorning her wrist.

“You’re okay,” Beca sighs in relief.

Amy nods sagely. “Takes more than that to take down my sexy fat ass.”

Beca glances over her shoulder at the body of Amy’s clone on the floor and winces. “What did you do to her?”

“Bashed her with a picture frame,” Amy replies as Chloe joins them. “She wasn’t going to get up after that.”

“Amy,” Chloe says quickly. “We need to find the others and tell them—Stacie is—”

“Going for the gas, yeah,” Amy grimaces. “Cynthia Rose told us. We’re in here. Um, it’s not pretty,” she adds, stepping aside and giving them room to enter the kitchen.

Beca swallows hard and locks eyes with Chloe for a second, not sure what to expect. She crosses the threshold, entering the kitchen a little cautiously.

The first thing she registers is Emily, wearing her bracelet, and being violently sick into the trash can. Ashley and Jessica sit with her, Ashley holding her hair and Jessica rubbing her back soothingly. Cynthia Rose is there, too, with a cut on her forearm that Flo works to bandage.

“You’re all okay,” Chloe breathes, her eyes scanning the room.

“Relatively,” Cynthia Rose grunts.

“Emily?” Beca asks her quietly.

Still, Emily hears her and looks up, wiping her mouth weakly on a kitchen rag. “I had to… I didn’t want to, but she was attacking me and—” she cuts off, going pale, and ducks back down to the trash can to be sick again.

Flo cringes, her face wrinkling in sympathy. “She had to kill Stacie,” she whispers.

“What?” Chloe gasps.

“Stacie’s clone,” Amy clarifies. “In here. Stacie’s clone was attacking her, and—well, Legacy didn’t have a choice.”

“I tried to help,” Cynthia Rose mutters. “That’s how I got this,” she adds, gesturing to the cut on her arm. “Stacie’s clone had a knife, but we got it away from her. Emily went for the kitchen knives while the clone went after me and… well. Emily won.”

Chloe makes a small, scared noise. “Wh—where’s the body?” she asks after a moment, her voice hushed. “The clone?”

Jessica’s lip curled. “We threw it in the pantry. Didn’t want to look at it.”

“Yeah, Emily’s a little… well, what do you expect?” Flo asks almost defensively.

Beca stares at Emily’s still-heaving back. She’s just a kid, really. It isn’t fair.

She walks over to Emily, waits for a pause in the heaving, and kneels beside her. “Emily,” she says gently, getting her attention.

Emily glances at her, a light sheen of sweat covering her face.

“Hey, dude,” Beca begins. “I’m really, really sorry. I’m so sorry you had to do that. But, listen... if you hadn’t—hadn’t stopped Stacie’s clone, Cynthia Rose might be dead. You might be, too.”

Emily’s eyes shine and her chin quivers, but she nods once.

“So, um,” Beca continues quietly, “I can’t even imagine what… look, you did what you had to do, okay? The real Stacie is okay. She’s in the garage, right now, figuring out how to save us. You did the right thing,” Beca emphasizes. She has no idea if she’s doing this right at all—this is really much more Chloe’s domain—but she needs Emily to understand.

A small, pained smile flickers on Emily’s lips. “Thanks, Beca,” she says softly, her voice hoarse. Her eyes flick to Beca’s wrist and she frowns. “Amy said you lost your bracelet?”

“Yeah, both Chloe and I did,” Beca says. “We can just make new ones.”

“Maybe not with yarn,” Jessica suggests.

“Oh, here,” Flo says impatiently, moving toward her and Chloe with the first aid kit. She quickly wraps Chloe’s arm in clean white bandages, cutting the end and taping it securely. She does the same to Beca; it feels much more secure than the bracelet. Giving an experimental tug on the bandage, Beca can tell it won’t come off easily.

“Thanks, Flo,” Chloe says, watching Beca.

“Yeah, thanks,” Beca echoes.

Flo rolls her eyes, looking pleased with herself. “Should have thought of that sooner.”

“So, okay,” Chloe says, looking around. “You guys already know the plan. We just have to corner the clones all in one spot. Um, where are—”

“Flo’s and Lilly’s are trapped in the basement, so we should bring the rest there. Don’t know where they are, though,” Cynthia Rose answers.

“Ours and Aubrey is upstairs, so maybe the rest—”

Chloe is cut off by a sudden loud shouting upstairs that startles Beca; she’d half-forgotten Lilly had been up there fighting. The shouts are immediately followed by a huge tumbling sound that seems to echo in the kitchen, a series of deep thuds that somehow draw closer before stopping. Then, silence.

Ashley frowns. “What—”

“The stairs!” Chloe gasps, grabbing Beca’s arm. “Someone fell down the stairs.”

“Shit, Lilly,” Beca swears, and without another thought, she and Chloe are moving again.

They rush out of the kitchen, chased by the sound of scraping of chairs and footsteps as the rest of the Bellas follow. Once again, they cross the ruined sitting room and reach the foot of the stairs where—

Chloe cries out and Beca stops abruptly, rooted to the floor by what she sees.

“Oh my God,” Chloe murmurs beside her, hands again covering her mouth. “Oh my God. Her neck. Bec, look at her neck.”

Beca can’t _stop _looking. Nausea rolls her stomach and she has to take a deep breath, steadying herself.

Her own clone lies at the foot of the stairs, clearly dead, her neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Broken. The clone’s eyes are open, staring blankly at all of their feet.

Beca forces her eyes away from her own face on the floor, looking up the stairs to where Lilly stands staring down at them and the body. Aubrey’s and Chloe’s clones are somewhere up there, too, possibly having retreated after Lilly shoved Beca’s clone down the stairs.

A choked sob from next to her grabs Beca’s attention; she looks over, startled to see Chloe staring down at the body of her clone, tears running down her face.

“Shit, Chlo…” Beca breathes. “Hey, it’s… she’s not—”

Amy clears her throat loudly, giving Beca a pointed look.

“Uh, come here,” Beca urges somewhat awkwardly, gently guiding Chloe by the elbow back into the sitting room. Behind her, she can hear the other Bellas whispering and shuffling, maybe moving the clone’s body, but she tunes them out.

Chloe’s shaking and pale. The faraway look in her eyes scares Beca almost more than anything else she’s experienced with the clones.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she says to Chloe softly. “She’s not me. I’m okay.”

Chloe nods jerkily but doesn’t say anything.

An insane idea hits Beca. She knows she’ll probably be slapped or maybe screamed at. But it’s the only thing she can think of to reassure Chloe that it’s her.

She steps forward, her hands on Chloe’s waist, and kisses her.

For a heartbeat, nothing happens.

Then Chloe inhales sharply against the press of Beca’s lips, pulling back an inch.

Beca’s heart stutters and for a moment, she’s terrified she’d made the wrong move. Before she can apologize, though, or maybe flee the country, Chloe leans in again to close the gap she’d created between their lips.

Kissing Chloe is even better than she’d imagined. It’s all soft lips and gentle pressure, Chloe’s hands in her hair and nose bumping her cheek. It’s a soft sigh and the click of something in her chest that reminds her of empty pools and soft smiles, whisking her away from the present until all she can think is Chloe and the word _finally_.

Kissing Chloe is everything.

“Guys! Incoming!”

Cynthia Rose’s shout of warning makes Beca jerk back, startled. She’d managed to forget that they were essentially in the middle of a war zone, and, based on the surprise on Chloe’s face, so had she.

“Basement, now!” Stacie, reappeared from the garage, shouts over a thunderous noise that Beca realizes is coming from the stairs.

Understanding hits her like a freight train; she grabs Chloe’s hand and together they move, hurrying past the foot of the stairs and following the other Bellas to the basement. Beca makes the mistake of looking over her shoulder as they go; the remaining clones, led by Chloe’s and Aubrey’s, pound down the stairs from the second floor in chase.

The Bellas lead the way, Amy wrenching open the door to the basement. Lilly’s and Flo’s clones wait for them at the top of the steps but are bowled over backward as the Bellas all charge into the dank depths of the house. Beca and Chloe follow closely, the clones on their heels as they hurry down the basement steps, trying to lure the clones after them to get them all in one place.

It works almost too well.

As soon as Beca and Chloe hit the basement floor, the clones are upon them. She only has enough time to see Cynthia Rose’s clone attack Lilly, Lilly’s clone make a beeline for Emily, and Aubrey’s lunge at Chloe before she’s once again tackled, her assailant going for her legs.

She lands on the floor hard enough for the wind to be knocked out of her; Chloe’s clone smiles wickedly from on top of her. She’s missing a contact lens, one eye blue and the other amber, and her face is covered in scratches, souvenirs from her fight with Lilly. She looks deranged and doesn’t even pause to brag as she raises a hammer above Beca’s face.

Instinctively, Beca bucks her hips up and rolls, managing to throw the clone off balance. Beca flails, sending a fist straight to the clone’s stomach. The hammer falls to the left of Beca’s face, landing on the floor with a deafening clatter, and Beca writhes. She manages to dislodge Chloe’s clone completely and scrambles back rapidly, struggling to get to her feet.

Chloe’s clone follows, crawling after her on her hands and knees unnaturally. She’s faster than Beca is and is almost on top of her again before Beca remembers her legs. She kicks out hard, catching Chloe’s clone in the face with her boot. The clone cries out and jerks back, clutching her now-bleeding mouth.

Beca takes the opportunity to push herself up, rising to her feet, and her gaze falls on the dropped hammer. The clone’s eyes flick toward it as well.

Then they lock eyes, and everything seems to pause.

The clone moves first, throwing herself toward the hammer.

“No!” Beca shouts, lunging at the hammer. She knocks Chloe’s clone’s arm out of the way, her fingers wrapping around the hammer’s grip even as the clone’s fingernails scrabble at the back of her hand uselessly. Beca swings the hammer upward reflexively, striking the clone in the shoulder with the tool and making her fall back.

Panting, her heart racing in her chest, Beca forces herself back to her feet. She looks down at the injured clone, wincing and bloody on the floor, and knows what she has to do. Steeling herself, Beca raises the hammer, takes a step forward, and—

“Bec, don’t!” Chloe’s clone cries, raising her hands in pathetic self-defense. “Please!”

In that instant, it’s Chloe on the floor in front of her, defenseless.

Beca hesitates.

Chloe’s clone moves faster than Beca would have thought possible. She kicks out at Beca, catching her hard in the left knee. Beca’s leg goes out and she crumples but manages to hold onto the hammer. It doesn’t matter; the clone pulls a shard of glass—taken from Chloe’s broken window—from her boot and raises it.

“Bye, Bec,” Chloe’s clone smiles at her sweetly, her expression turning wicked.

There’s nothing Beca can do.

“Hey!” a voice shouts, and the real Chloe is suddenly there, the basement fire extinguisher in hand.

The clone only has time to glance at her in surprise before Chloe swings the red canister, hitting the clone directly in the head with a sickening thud. The clone drops, but Chloe isn’t done. She hits her again, and again, and again, until Beca has to reach out to stop her.

“Chloe! Chloe, stop, she’s—just stop!” she says, grabbing one of Chloe’s arms.

Chloe turns to her, fire in her eyes. For a second, Beca is terrified. Chloe isn’t violent. Not like this.

The fire slowly fades as Chloe comes back to herself, melting into something like exhaustion. She looks at the bloodied fire extinguisher in her hands in revulsion, immediately throwing it down to the floor.

“Chloe?” Beca repeats softly. “It’s—you got her. It’s done.”

She doesn’t need to look at the body of the clone on the floor behind Chloe to know it.

Chloe nods, her throat bobbing. “You’re okay?” she asks, her eyes flicking between both of Beca’s.

“Yeah,” Beca says, ignoring the screaming of her muscles. “Thanks for that.”

Chloe exhales shakily. “I don’t know if—I hit Aubrey’s clone, too, but I don’t know if she’s just knocked out.”

“That’s okay,” Beca replies quickly, looking around at the fight surrounding them and catching sight of Aubrey’s clone lying motionless on the floor. “We should—”

A loud series of pops, echoing around the walls of the basement like gunfire, interrupts her. Beca jumps, looking for the source automatically to see firecrackers exploding on the basement floor, sending shrapnel spraying into the air. Someone must have lit up what’s left of their Independence Day stock.

“GO!!” Stacie bellows above the chaos, and Beca understands. It’s their distraction.

The Bellas all fly for the stairs leading out of the basement; Ashley, Jessica, and Emily take the lead, followed closely by Flo, Lilly, Stacie, and Cynthia Rose. Amy looks back to make sure Beca and Chloe are following before running up the stairs, too.

The remaining clones—Lilly’s, Flo’s, Emily’s, and Cynthia Rose’s—chase after Beca and Chloe, but are too slow. Beca shoves Chloe ahead of her, rushing them both up the rickety wooden steps at top speed. She feels the clones behind her, hears their steps, but ahead she sees the landing, sees the others running out the front door and to safety.

A hand grabs at her ankle; Beca trips and almost falls. She shouts, and Chloe and Amy are with her instantly. They both grab Beca’s arms and tug; Beca glances over her shoulder to see Aubrey’s clone, a welt on her forehead from where Chloe had hit her. Chloe and Amy give Herculean effort, pulling her forward. Beca’s shoe comes off in Aubrey’s hand as she’s hauled to safety, pulled through the doorway to the basement and deposited on the floor.

Amy releases her and slams the basement door closed behind them, throwing her weight against it and locking it. A huge scraping noise fills the room and Beca looks over her shoulder to see Stacie, Cynthia Rose, and Emily shoving at the refrigerator, forcing it across the floor and to the basement door. Chloe moves quickly to help, and together, they get it in position. Amy moves and the heavy refrigerator takes her place, barricading the door and trapping the remaining clones in the basement.

The sour pang of gasoline fills Beca’s nose; Ashley and Jessica are already dousing the walls and floors with it, throwing the liquid over the stairs and over the bodies of the Beca’s and Amy’s clones.

“Beca,” Chloe says loudly, her face close to Beca’s. “We need to get out, now.”

“I…” Talking about burning the house had been much easier than seeing it in action. It’s happening too quickly.

“I know,” Chloe breathes, her eyes sparkling with tears. “But we have to go.”

Beca looks around one more time but is unable to see anything but the damage inflicted to the house in the fight. “Okay,” she says, taking Chloe’s hand.

Together, they rush out, joining the other Bellas waiting outside. Ashley and Jessica follow a moment later, pouring the gas behind them in a trail that stops several yards away from where the Bellas gather. They hurry to join the group, and Beca does a quick headcount; all of the Bellas are there, and all are wearing their bracelets, or, in hers and Chloe’s case, bandages.

“Lilly?” Stacie asks, and without ceremony, Lilly moves toward the trail of gas and ignites it with a lighter she seems to pull from thin air.

The flames move quickly, blooming to existence with a whoosh, fed by the trail of gas. The fire speeds toward the house, disappearing into the open front door. Within seconds, the interior of the house glows orange, heat and light spilling out. The glass in the windows shatters, and the Bellas move farther back as black smoke starts billowing out of the house.

They watch in silence as the flames spread, taking over the ground floor. Beca knows that before long, the other floors will be engulfed, taking their every possession, and putting an end to the clones. She imagines briefly that she can hear the screaming from the basement, but shuts down that thought almost as quickly as it forms.

Nothing feels real in that moment. It’s like she’s floating far above the scene, watching an unfamiliar group of girls burn an unknown house.

Beca drags a ragged breath through her lips, feeling but not registering the heat of the flames against her face.

Then Chloe’s hand finds hers, grounding her, bringing her back to her own body with a thud. Beca holds tight, not wanting to float away again. Chloe shifts beside her, and Beca looks over to see her pulling out the picture she’d saved from the wreckage. Chloe unfolds it and stares down at it.

It’s a group photo of the Bellas immediately after winning Nationals at the end of freshman year. Even as Beca stares at the photo, a droplet of water splashes on one corner as Chloe silently cries, tears running down her face.

A lump forms in Beca’s throat and her eyes sting; she has to look back at the fire.

Sirens already sound in the distance, but Beca knows it’ll be too late to save anything by the time the firetrucks arrive. Ashley and Jessica had done a good job with the gasoline.

She squeezes Chloe’s hand, just once.

Chloe exhales shakily, tracing her thumb over the back of Beca’s hand. “It’s okay,” she murmurs. “It’s over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to ao3 user amlev/acabellas for the wonderful idea for this ending!


End file.
